


The Game

by zalil



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 12:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20639495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zalil/pseuds/zalil
Summary: She lives with the Winchesters since her parents, hunters, left her there before a big hunt. Whenever Crowley comes to visit the boys, she plays a game. Will he join in?





	The Game

"Uncle Crowley!" you exclaimed in delight, entering the war room. It had been some time since your favorite villain had visited the bunker. He was sitting in front of a stack of books, studying the back of some kind of alcohol bottle in distaste – probably one of Dean's and not his own. You were a little too old for it to be proper to call him Uncle and that was exactly why you did it.

When he heard you, he looked up and gave a mock sigh. 

"Good evening, morsel."

Despite his fake annoyance, the tone of his voice was warm and his eyes glittered in anticipation. You had had the game going for a few months now – not that he was at the bunker often, but it was a running thing – and only a few weeks ago had he realized there was a game and that he had to start playing if he didn't want to lose. 

Yes, you knew you were a bit young, but that was why it was fun. There was an expiration date on playing the innocent child and until then, you were making the most of it. Also, nobody would care if an adult got too close to a morally handicapped but mostly helpful acquaintance and if the Winchesters didn't mind, Crowley might not feel compelled to play at all. No, it was good you were so young. 

Didn't mean that you were innocent, though. Up to a few weeks ago, you had had them all fooled, even the King of Hell. None of them suspected anything. The Winchesters didn't have a reason to watch over you when he was in the bunker, they knew Crowley would think twice before jeopardizing their working relationship by doing anything harmful to you. But nobody had suspected you to cause trouble. Even Crowley hadn't noticed what you were doing, that you were always leaning a bit too close to him or wearing skirts that were always just a touch too short when he was around for example. 

Until that day when you couldn't have held your laughter anymore if your life had depended on it. You had played the game by yourself, inconspicuously following Crowley around the bunker, like in a very slow game of tag. When you had heard Dean approaching, you had slipped between Crowley and the row of books he had been looking at and asked him something. When Dean had entered the room he had found you cornered, Crowley far too close to you, and barked at him to step back and keep his hands off you. Point to the young lady in the too short dress. But you hadn't been able to refrain from giggling and given away the game. Surprised, Crowley had raised an eyebrow at you and you had responded by batting your eyelashes at him and playing innocent again. He hadn't bought it anymore, though, so since then, there was a player two. 

Sadly, now that he knew you were just trying to get him into trouble, player two watched his back. Presently, he turned in his seat so he sat properly at the table. No space on his lap for you, which was a bummer. You walked up to him and gave him a chaste kiss hello onto his cheek, feeling his rough beard scratch at your skin. Skirt swinging, you wandered around the table to slide onto the chair across from him.

He didn't protest against the kiss anymore. While he had complained about your behavior on previous occasions, he hadn't shut the game down by telling the Winchesters what you were doing and occasionally even indulged you a little, so he had to get some kind of kick out of it as well. It probably helped that he was morally extremely flexible, as Sam liked to say. Dean had stronger words for him you weren't allowed to repeat.

"What's up? Are you helping Sam and Dean with a hunt?"

"Well, I might, but that depends on what we find out from those clever books of Moose's and what I could gain from helping."

He pushed the bottle as far away on the table as it would go and, crossing his legs by setting his ankle on his other knee, studied you like an interesting, but mildly irritating insect.

"Don't you have pictures to color or dolls to feed?"

"Nope," you answered, ignoring his jibe at your age in favor of a hopeful question. "Got something for me today?"

In the last months, he had sometimes brought you horrible gifts when he visited, among them a real human skull or a large, pointy knife for when you would hunt later. They were awesome and irritated the hell out of Sam and Dean. 

"Not today, morsel. But tell you what, you can place an order for next time. Deal?"

You just grinned at him. You didn't say yes to deals, didn't sign anything – especially not in blood – and didn't kiss people who offered you wonderful things, that much you had learned from him. He nodded appreciatively when you didn't agree but just kept grinning like a sphinx.

Under the table, you searched for his legs with your feet. You managed one stroke with your naked foot up his calf before he pulled his leg away, just in time for Dean to come back into the room with two bottles of beer. He put them on the table in front of two empty seats. 

"If that's not to your taste, zap in a glass of your own," Dean told Crowley gruffly, jerking his head at the bottle he had studied before.

"And there's coke in the fridge for you," he added, watching you look up with interest. Yeah, 'cause apparently you were old enough to look at pictures of disemboweled people in lore books when helping with research, but not old enough to ruin your liver like the rest of the people in this establishment. Great.

Still, it was a good opportunity to step up your game. Skipping along to the kitchen, you heard Sam come back and the discussion on the unknown threat start. 

Armed with one coke and a secret weapon, you returned to them. They were currently focused on a drawing of something in a dusty old tome Sam had probably brought from the bunker's library. It was a shame the men of letters hadn't collected comic books or anything that could be read for fun. 

Crowley furrowed his brow when he explained something apparently very important to Sam. He looked kinda old, you thought. Of course, he was a demon, so he could be anything between ten and a hundred years old and no one could tell from the way his body looked. But his meat suit looked old, like a dad. Well, the hot kind of dad, the kind you'd have sex with if he really wanted to.

You drank your coke, letting your thoughts wander while they talked. Finally, Sam handed you a book and instructed you on what you should be looking for. Boring. Well, there was always the secret weapon. 

Putting your legs on the empty chair beside you and the book on your lap to hold your skirt in place, you took the lollipop out of your pocket and slowly unwrapped it. 

Opposite you, Crowley looked up from the map he was studying with Dean and rolled his eyes when he saw what you were doing. 

Popping the sweet into your mouth, you started to read. Sam and Dean were moving around too much and if they discovered you teasing Crowley, the game was over. It was supposed to look like _he_ was the culprit. You waited until everybody had been assigned books and settled, then took the lollipop into your hand again and pulled it out of your mouth. You had gotten the cherry kind that turned your tongue bright pink. Together with the taste of coke still left on your tongue, it tasted wonderful. Sliding it along your mouth, you spread the sweet syrup along your lips, then licked it off. No reaction from across the table.

Staring straight into your book, you started to slowly lick the lollipop. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Crowley look up, shake his head slightly, then lower it again. You licked around the left side, then the right, then ran the underside of your tongue over it. You turned a page, dipped the lollipop into your mouth and pulled it out again slowly, lips closing tightly around the pink sphere. 

Crowley managed to look mostly bored, studying his own book, but little twitches of his eyebrows let you know what he thought of your attempts at flirting. When he looked up at you, you held his gaze and sucked the lollipop back into your mouth with a wet sound. By the dark looks he gave you, you could tell he was annoyed, so your antics – ridiculous as he might find them to be – didn't _not_ affect him. Smiling, you turned back to your book, but didn't stop. Moments later, your mouth closed around nothing when the lollipop just vanished. Lifting your gaze, you found the King of Hell giving you a charming smile, then returning to his reading.

After only half an hour, Dean started to fidget. Everybody knew he didn't like reading and tried to weasel his way out of helping with research whenever he could. 

"Hungry?" he asked around the table, hoping someone would send him on a food run. You nodded. The Winchesters were used to not having dinner, but you weren't. A cheeseburger sounded great. Sam ordered a salad and, relieved that he could take a break, Dean took off.

When Sam stood and mumbled something about getting an encyclopedia for reference from the library, the next chance presented itself. You took it and walked over to Crowley with your own book, showing him a part in Latin you needed translated. This time he wasn't so well prepared, really did look at the text for a moment and didn't notice what you were planning until you had sat down on his thigh. 

"That's a paragraph about demons. You don't need that, love, we're not looking for a demon."

You shut your book with a _thump_. Research was dull and you hadn't really been interested in the text anyways, you had just needed an excuse to come over to him.

"Tell me a story about hell?" you asked, letting your feet dangle back and forth. 

He sighed and leaned back. 

"How about you go to your own seat and I'll tell you about the puppies?"

You ignored his suggestion and twisted around to look at him, eyes wide in delight. "Puppies?"

He stretched out his hand, inviting you to get off. "Get over there and I'll tell you."

You batted your eyelashes innocently. "I'm comfortable right here."

"You won't be when Moose gets back," Crowley said, tugging gently at your your ponytail. You smirked and lifted your leg over his, so you sat fully on his lap, facing away from him. Surprisingly, he let you. As a demon, he probably had superhearing or X-ray vision or something and would know when one of the Winchesters came back. You leaned back against his chest, book forgotten, and twirled a strand of your hair between your fingers. 

"So, puppies, really? In hell?"

"Juliet's had a litter of four. They're very small, but they have teeth as sharp as needles already and dark, sleek fur like their mummy."

You looked up. "They sound really cute. Can I see them sometime?"

His voice sounded raspy, yet warm next to your ear. "Humans can't see them, only those whose deals are due. You know that, love."

"That's a pity," you said, decided Crowley was very comfortable and stretched, grinding your butt down on his lap. You then leaned forwards to pull your book towards you. "Could you make me a demon? I could see them then, couldn't I?"

"Morsel, do you even know which game you're playing here?"

He sounded honestly interested. 

"Game?"

Arching your back, you looked up at him with big eyes. You rolled your hips again, wondering if you'd feel when – ah yes. You did. It was strange but exhilarating to know what effect you had on the man.

Crowley's hands, up to now kept firmly to himself, came down on your naked thighs and slid up to play with the hem of your skirt. His thumbs rubbed little circles onto your thighs and you felt your body flush and heat pool between your own legs. Player two had changed the rules of the game a little. 

You wiggled some more and heard him draw a sharp breath. _Good._ Only for you, that brought no friction at all. You needed something more. Not that you had ever done more with another person. You had literally no experience except for the occasional furtive press of your fingers against the good spots late at night when everybody else was asleep in the bunker. But even though your knowledge about sex was all theory, no practice, you knew you needed something _more_.

Biting your lip you wondered how far you could push this game before it would come crashing down around you. Maybe just a little more. 

You took his hand and gave it a little push upwards, earning a groan from the demon behind you. You stretched your body like a kitten and spread your legs to give him better access to where you wanted him.

"Really, kiddo, you're too young for that kind of game."

He sounded frank, but not bothered. You didn't think his morals were holding him back, but he was trying to stay in the Winchesters' good graces and if they found out about your activities... The two of you had arrived at a line you probably shouldn't cross if Crowley didn't want to have two Winchesters after him and out for his hide.

For a second, one of his hands hovered under your skirt, brushing the damp white cotton of your panties ever so slightly. His other hand gripped you firmly around your waist, pulling you in. You closed your eyes, rocked your hips a little and willed him to touch you. His comment didn't bother you.

"Yeah, I am, but isn't it more fun like this?"

He slid back with his chair and, with a firm shove, pushed you off and to the floor. You had kind of expected that somewhere along the way and managed to fall onto your feet. Turning around, you stayed on your knees and looked up cheekily. You could see the tent in his pants and wondered why the hell he had pushed you off. 

"Get up and sit, morsel."

His voice indicated he was done with the game for today. 

"What do I get out of it?" you demanded. If he treated you like a brat you were prepared to behave like one.

Crowley stared. "Is me not telling the Winchesters what you're doing good enough for you?"

"Nope."

"Then I'm afraid you'll be very disappointed."

You shuffled closer until you were kneeling between his legs. Crowley looked down at you coolly, then sighed. 

"What do you want, morsel?" he asked gruffly. You wondered if Sam was on his way up and Crowley didn't want him to find you on your knees in front of him. If that was the case, you were in the best bargaining position. 

What did you want? You didn't know. Right now you wanted him to pick you back up and touch you but with Sam and Dean around, there was no chance of that happening. Still, he was a demon, he could find a way to apparate in later or something.

"Show me... how to make me feel good."

"No."

Not even a moment's hesitation in his words. He seemed to revel in the frustration your own game had caused you. 

"Not now," you explained. You had gotten the part where someone was coming to the room. "Later."

"Still a no from me."

God, he was stubborn. But so were you. You knew he was interested, his lap said so. If only you had an opportunity to get closer to him when you were alone, you'd be sure you could push him a bit further.

"Then I want a kiss. Just one little kiss. Deal?" you asked sweetly. Steps announced Sam's return from the library, but you didn't move. Staring up at Crowley from between his legs, you found him smirking. 

"Deal."

Within a split-second, you crawled under the table to your own seat and were sitting primly. Only the book still lying across the table in front of Crowley showed something was different from before. Crowley yawned demonstratively.

"Has either of you seen De quadrupedi diabolici historia? It's not where I put it after cataloging." 

Sam, oblivious to the atmosphere in the room, scratched his head, took a swig of his beer and double checked the piles on the table.

"Yeah, I've borrowed it for a bit of bedtime reading," you deadpanned. Sam looked at you, realized you were joking, gave you a grade three Winchester bitchface and continued looking.

"It's got to be here somewhere," he murmured, then went off again, presumably to check the other rooms. 

Smirking, Crowley snapped his fingers and a bottle of Glenfiddich and a glass appeared at his side.

"Have I taught you nothing, love?" he asked, pouring himself a generous glass. You wondered what he was smirking about and a bad feeling crept over you. His cool, carefree demeanor made you uneasy. 

"Why?" you asked, leaning over the table and grabbing the book, then settling in like before. 

"What did I tell you about specificity in bargaining?" 

He raised his eyebrows. Shoot, he was right. You had made a bad deal. 

"What didn't you specify enough?" he tested, swirling the amber liquid in the glass and taking a sip. 

"Time and place?" you guessed. Technically, he could choose that now, so you could wait for a very long time for your kiss.

"And?"

What else had you forgotten? It seemed you still had a bit to learn before becoming a crossroads demon. You shrugged your shoulders and turned a page without looking at it.

"The person you want a kiss from, morsel. You said you wanted a kiss, but not from whom."

Darn, he was right. You wondered who else he'd get to kiss you and giggled. 

"Just don't bring up a hell hound to kiss me," you pleaded, eyes watering from your laughing.

"If you refuse to remember how to make a deal, I probably should, little minx," he grumbled and tossed you a lollipop he seemed to have conjured out of thin air, probably as a consolation prize.

You stuck out your tongue at him and unwrapped the lollipop. 

Hopefully, you'd be in better luck in the next round.


End file.
